not broke (but you can see the cracks)
by black.k.kat
Summary: In which the Seireitei gets a new captain, Yumichika gets a new drinking partner, and Ikkaku and Renji get jealous.
1. not broke, but you can see the cracks

**Rating: **T-ish (?)

**Warnings: **Angsty thoughts, canon!AU, friendship schmoop (if that's a thing?), etc.

**Word Count: **~3000

**Pairings: **Ikkaku/Yumichika, Renji/Ichigo.

**Summary: **In which the Seireitei gets a new captain, Yumichika gets a new drinking partner, and Ikkaku and Renji gets jealous. IkkaYumi, RenIchi

**Disclaimer: **I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.

**Notes: **IkkaYumi was actually one of the very first slash pairings I ever shipped, and RenIchi was one of the second. Therefore, why not combine them? Also, I have a thing for canon AUs and captain!Ichigo, so I'm tossing a bunch of my favorite things in a fic and shaking. Expect one more chapter, maybe two—I'm not looking to write an epic, just a self-indulgent bit of angsty friendship-and-unrequited-longing fluff. Happy ending, though, I promise.

(Another U2 title, as is my wont. This time it's my Yumichika headcanon song, _All Because of You_ from _How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb_.)

* * *

_**not broke (but you can see the cracks)**_

Normally, Yumichika is more than happy to keep up with Ikkaku drink for drink, but right now it feels like things are weighing on him, like all the secrets he's accumulated over the years are conspiring to crush him. Simply put, he's just not in the mood.

Besides, he's not the only one skulking in the corner tonight.

Kurosaki Ichigo, newly instated captain of the Fifth Division, the first shinigami to be promoted to captain right after his death, is seated across the table from him, sipping his sake slowly and watching Ikkaku and Renji humiliate themselves on the other side of the room. Yumichika studies him for a moment, surveying the easy, confident way he holds both himself and his cup, and can't help a small smile. Ichigo is a world away from the awkward, angry boy he was in his teenage years—not that those are far behind him, really, in terms of length of time. But in temperament and attitude, he's _galaxies_ away.

"You're smirking," Ichigo needles without looking at him. "Stop it, it's creepy."

Yumichika huffs at him, folding his arms across his chest and offering up the pout that makes Ikkaku cave like wet cardboard. "I _was_ just admiring the way you fill out your haori," he says haughtily. "But if that's the unbeautiful way you go about responding to compliments, I won't bother."

Ichigo doesn't smile—he _never_ smiles, and while it's entirely unbeautiful, Yumichika has come to accept it as one of the man's major flaws—but there's a certain up-turn to one corner of his mouth that suggests he _might_ someday. With enough work, perhaps. "You're lying," the new captain parries, but his eyes are amused in a way that says he doesn't mind. "Besides, Ikkaku's more your type, right?"

Damn the man for being so observant. The pout fades away, and Yumichika sinks a little lower in defeat. It's hardly the first time someone has implied that his relationship with Ikkaku isn't exactly chaste, but here and now, with Ichigo, he hasn't the strength to deny that he _wants _it to be what they think it is. Also, Ichigo manages to combine being supremely perceptive with being an absolute thickheaded moron, and it's always fascinating to observe. "That obvious?" he asks with a faint wince, hoping that the answer will be 'no', but not expecting much. Ikkaku's got a thing for busty beauties, and there's a new one in the Eighth who's making him drool at inopportune moments. It's disgusting, and ugly, and Yumichika's wanted to claw some eyes out for _weeks_ now.

Surprisingly, Ichigo doesn't immediately confirm his fears. Instead, he regards Yumichika for a long moment, brown eyes warm and a little sympathetic. At length, he shakes his head. "No," he answers carefully, clearly picking his words—and that's also new, another thing that will take time to adjust to. Yumichika's used to Ichigo stomping right in where angels fear to tread. "I think…most people here have been around you both too long. They're used to seeing you through their own assumptions."

That's rather liberating to hear, and Yumichika will forever deny that he slumps a bit in relief, but that's exactly what he does. "So unbeautiful," he huffs, but his heart isn't in it. From the way Ichigo's looking at him, he notices that, too. Still, there's no pity in his eyes as he nudges Yumichika's sake closer to him and then raises his own.

"Toast?" he asks, and maybe it isn't _cheerful_, but there's a certain amount of wry humor to it that makes Yumichika sit up straight again.

"To?" he inquires, even as he lifts his own cup, because not wanting to get drunk with Ikkaku and not wanting to get drunk _period_ are two _entirely_ different things. Yumichika is simply the former—he's never in his life been the latter, when faced with the opportunity.

Ichigo snorts self-deprecatingly, but says, "To pining." At Yumichika's blank look of shock, he tips his head at where Renji is draped, giggling and completely plastered, over a long-suffering Kira. When Yumichika manages to drag his gaze back, eyebrows very nearly touching his hairline, Ichigo just shrugs and offers, "I get the whole 'best friends' thing, really."

They're a sorry pair, and Yumichika can't help but laugh, bright and real, for the first time what he knows is far too long. He lifts his cup again, still giggling, and Ichigo does the same, eyes crinkled faintly with shared mirth.

"To pining," they intone together, mockingly solemn, then clink their cups and down their drinks.

"More?" Ichigo asks, already rising to his feet.

"Lots," Yumichika agrees, and feels like the night's finally looking up.

* * *

Somehow, they're still (mostly) sober when the night ends, the barman kicking them all out with a disgusted growl. Ikkaku and Renji are largely unconscious, clinging to each other like teddy bears in the dusty street and drooling all over. Yumichika spares them half a glance as he anchors an arm over Ichigo's shoulders, careful of the monstrous cleaver that is Zangetsu, and steels himself for the long trek back to the Eleventh. It makes him feel a bit better that Ichigo, also slightly unsteady on his feet, returns the favor.

"Bastards," the captain mutters, carefully skirting the two wasted men.

"Unbeautiful morons," Yumichika agrees, far more cheerfully than he might have done a few hours ago, picking his way down the street in the faint light of the lamps.

There's a few minutes of comfortable silence between them, easy as they walk, and then Yumichika asks curiously, "Do you like being a captain?" He's been wondering for a while now, because even with Ichigo's maturity and reserve, he's still _Ichigo_, and there will always be a part of him that's wild and headstrong and reckless—not exactly prime leadership material.

Ichigo hesitates for a moment, and then huffs out a soft breath. "Mostly," he allows, even though he sounds like the admission is being dragged from him. "Everything but the paperwork and the meetings, really. I need a lieutenant, but after Hinamori…" He trails off with a grimace. "No one in the Fifth wants the job."

Yumichika considers that for a moment, hardly even noticing when they bypass the Eleventh Division entirely and head towards the Fifth's barracks. "I can help with the paperwork," he offers, surprising himself even as his brain seizes the idea gleefully, mouth running away with him as he adds quickly, "But in return, teach me bankai."

(Because Yumichika is used to hiding, used to keeping secrets that he's been _forced_ to keep, that he can't control. But this, this will be a secret he _chose_, not something thrust upon him by fate or chance or fuckery like that. _His_. And right now, with Ikkaku weighing heavily on his mind and Ruri'iro Kujaku a lead weight at his side, he needs that so very, very much if he wants to stay sane.)

Ichigo doesn't immediately shoot the idea down, but he doesn't leap on it, either. Yumichika looks over to see sharp brown eyes on him, judging and weighing, and tries to meet them steadily. There's a weight to Ichigo's gaze, something that makes Yumichika remember just how damned powerful this lean young man is, just what kinds of monsters he's gone up against. Because while the captains and lieutenants went up against Aizen's followers, his soldiers, Ichigo hurled himself headlong at the very madman in question, the madman and the Hogokoyu, and emerged victorious. Scarred and battered and not without cost to himself, perhaps, but victorious nevertheless.

"Sleep on it," Ichigo says at last, guiding them through the Fifth's gates and into the main building. "Make that offer sober and we'll see."

He leads Yumichika down a long hall and slides open a door at the end, then steps inside. Yumichika follows, taking in the room with curious eyes. It's neat, neater than he expected, but then again he remembers Ichigo's bedroom in the world of the living, not a single book out of place and everything carefully maintained. This place is the same way, clean and open. There's a shoji door leading out to a small garden, standing open to let in the night breeze, and Yumichika can see glimmers of moonlight reflecting off water near the center—a koi pond, most likely.

"Beautiful," he offers, because it feels like he should.

Ichigo snorts softly, shrugging out of his haori and carefully hanging it in the closet, then unabashedly stripping off his shihakusho. "Yeah," he says, a faint, pleased tilt to his lips. "It's home." He rummages in the depths of the closet for a moment, then emerges with two yukatas. "You sleeping here?"

"Apparently." Yumichika studies Ichigo in the moonlight, taking in the long, lean lines of his body and the curve of his impressive musculature. Such a ridiculously big sword is good for something, apparently. His hair's grown out, a little shaggy around the edges, but it suits him, and the lines of his face in the half-light really _are_ beautiful, elegant and entirely masculine in the same moment that they're striking.

It would make sense for Yumichika to be attracted to him, for him to want this boy-turned-man with his power and fire and drive, his ease with himself and his unconscious authority and his martial grace. But even now, with the single futon between them and all of Ichigo's tanned skin visible in the moonlight as he pulls on his yukata, the only thing Yumichika wants is a big, dumb, bald thug with no social graces and the temperament of a mangy stray dog. He has to laugh a little at himself, pressing a hand over his eyes. At this point, it's either laugh or cry, and Yumichika has never been able to cry beautifully.

"Why now?" he asks, equally to himself and Ichigo. "I've lived with this for _decades_, and _now_ it becomes too much to bear?"

Gentle fingers on his shihakusho startle him, and he drops his hand to meet Ichigo's quietly compassionate gaze. There's steel in it, though, some hardened core of fire and strength and blazing determination. "It happens that way," the captain says, sliding Yumichika's uniform off with entirely impersonal hands—a friend's touch, more than a lover's. "Everything builds until it's got nowhere else to go. You have to either give in to it or get over it, at least until the next time it happens."

One look at Ichigo makes it clear which method of coping he chooses.

Brown eyes meet violet, and then Ichigo says, "I'll ask the old man about having you as my acting lieutenant. We can start training whenever you're ready."

With warmth spreading through his chest, Yumichika takes the offered yukata and slides it on, belting it loosely. Ichigo is already settling down on the futon, tossing the covers back in clear invitation, and Yumichika can't even comprehend how they got from being passing acquaintances to _this,_ but the mere thought of sharing a bed with someone, even to simply sleep, is overwhelmingly lovely. He sinks down onto the mattress with a long sigh, rolling just a bit closer to Ichigo's heat. The captain snorts a little at him, but slides over nevertheless, tucking himself up against Yumichika's side as though they've done this countless times before.

Their foreheads are almost touching, black and orange hair entwined on the single pillow, and Yumichika lets out a long, slow breath and closes his eyes, giving in to sleep more easily that he has in a very long while.

* * *

The first light of dawn through the east-facing door wakes Yumichika, because he's always been a morning person. From the faint stirrings of the body in his arms, Ichigo is apparently the same way. Brown eyes flutter open as the captain rolls onto his back, stretching gracefully, and then sits up. There aren't as many lines around his eyes this morning, and though that could be because it's still early, Yumichika would like to think it's for the same reason that he feels so incredibly refreshed, far more so than usual.

"Breakfast?" Ichigo asks as he rises, already stripping off his yukata and starting to pull on his uniform.

"Certainly." Yumichika is glad he isn't the only one reluctant to leave this bit of peace behind, so he nods, sliding out from under the blanket and picking up his own uniform, wrinkling his nose at it. Yesterday's clothes seem to be his only option, though, since Ichigo is both taller and more muscular than he is, and his clothes will likely make Yumichika look as though he's playing dress-up with a parent's shihakusho. _So_ unbeautiful.

They leave together, flash-stepping past the startled eyes of the Fifth's early risers and out into the street. This time, Yumichika takes the lead, heading for a small food stand he and Ikkaku usually stop at when they're in too much of a rush to cook. There are several shinigami already in line, and they shoot the two men confused glances that are definitely not as subtle as they think they are. Ichigo catches Yumichika's gaze and rolls his eyes expressively, and Yumichika has to smother a chuckle. By the time they get to their divisions, the news that Captain Kurosaki and Fifth Seat Ayasegawa ate breakfast together will be all over Seireitei. Yumichika has always delighted in providing fodder for the gossip mills, though, and apparently Ichigo isn't as opposed as one would think, because he's not doing anything to quell the whispers already springing up.

When the stand owner has deposited piles of steaming sweet bean buns in their hands, Ichigo starts walking, and Yumichika falls into step beside him. They meander in peace for a few minutes, no destination in mind, until Yumichika breaks the friendly silence to say, "They're going to make us out to be lovers, you know."

The boy that Kurosaki Ichigo used to be would have spluttered and turned red, but the man he's become simply shrugs. "Probably," he agrees, casting a sideways look at Yumichika. "It might be good for getting a reaction from our idiots, you know."

Yumichika considers that, because he hadn't before. It's true, and the worst thing that could happen would be for them to get no reaction at all, which would be just the same as things now stand. There's really nothing to lose. He nods, agreeing, and drops the paper wrapper in a waste bin on the corner. They're close to the Eleventh, and he offers his arm to Ichigo with a coy flutter of his long lashes. "In that case, Kurosaki, care to walk me to work?"

Ichigo snorts at him in a way that Yumichika's come to learn means he's actually laughing, the repressed bastard, but he slides his arm through Yumichika's and links their elbows. "Why not?" he says with amusement, shaking his head, even as the shinigami passing them on the street turn to stare. "And it's Ichigo."

Yumichika hums cheerfully under his breath, guiding them around the corner and towards the Eleventh, only a few hundred meters away. When they come to a halt, he leans over to press a careful kiss to Ichigo's cheek, and though it's partly for show, his murmured, "Thank you, Ichigo," is entirely heartfelt.

Ichigo regards him for a moment, eyes crinkled in his version of a smile, and then he returns the gesture, lips surprisingly soft against Yumichika's skin. "No," he answers, and it's so very, very kind. "Thank _you_, Yumichika."

Then he's gone, so fast he doesn't even stir the dust under their feet, too fast to leave even an afterimage behind, and Yumichika smiles to himself as he turns towards his division.


	2. i saw you in the curve of the moon

**Rating: **R-ish

**Warnings: **Angsty thoughts, lots of swearing (from Renji), canon!AU, friendship schmoop (if that's a thing?), etc.

**Word Count: **~2200

**Pairings: **Ikkaku/Yumichika, Renji/Ichigo.

**Summary: **In which the Seireitei gets a new captain, Yumichika gets a new drinking partner, and Ikkaku and Renji gets jealous. IkkaYumi, RenIchi

**Disclaimer: **I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.

**Notes: **I have way too many freaking WIPs right now. Argh. Anyway, chapter title is still from _All Because of You_ by U2. There will be one more chapter tying up the IkkaYumi and then this will be done. As I said, no grand plots or substance here; this is all relationship!fluff.

* * *

_**i saw you in the curve of the moon**_

Of the two of them, Ikkaku is the first to notice that something strange is going on, which—well, the only other option is _Renji_ noticing first, and even Ikkaku likes to think he's a bit sharper than that.

It starts when he notices one of the new recruits fucking up a basic zanjutsu sequence he _knows_ Yumichika drilled into them all last week. Snorting, he turns around to tell Yumi, a sharp comment on the intelligence of this new batch on the tip of his tongue. But Yumichika isn't there. The spot at Ikkaku's shoulder where he normally stands is empty, and there's not even the faintest trace of that lilac shampoo he uses in the air. Ikkaku closes his mouth and frowns.

"Somethin' wrong, Ikkaku?" the captain drawls, sweeping past with Yachiru on his shoulder. "You look like you just misplaced your brain."

That's actually rather more accurate than Ikkaku cares to admit. He lets his frown deepen, thinking back on the morning, and can't recall seeing Yumichika at any point today. And last night he'd ducked out on their drinking session early, claiming prior engagements.

If that had been the truth, they're engagements Ikkaku is entirely unaware of, and that's…unsettling. Not that they live in each other's pockets, but—well, there's a certain level of codependency there, and has been since they were brats growing up together in the Rukongai. That he hasn't even noticed Yumichika's absence until now is testament to that.

"Er, ya haven't seen Yumichika this morning, have you, Captain?" he asks, glancing around because he half-expects Yumi to come wandering around the corner at any moment, deep in discussion with Rangiku or someone equally fashion-conscious.

Zaraki pauses and gives him a strange look. "Pretty-boy's over at the Fifth," he says after a long moment. "Kurosaki wanted his help with lieutenant work. Seems like the pansies over there won't take the position. Think it's cursed or something. Ayasegawa offered to help."

Ikkaku feels his heart thud hollowly against his breastbone. Yumichika hadn't mentioned anything about that to _him_, and he's usually first in line to know when Yumichika's satisfied or excited or in a mood to complain. "But—" he starts helplessly, and then forces himself to stop as a horrifying thought occurs to him. Yumi's strong. He's been Fifth Seat as long as Ikkaku's been Third Seat, and everyone knows he might as well be Fourth, what with how no one can beat him to take Fourth in the first place. What if he's finally decided he wants to move up in the ranks? The Eleventh doesn't have any room for promotion, and Ikkaku _knows_ that Yumichika would never challenge him, Zaraki, or Yachiru for their places.

That means his only option is a cross-division transfer, and from the sound of it, Kurosaki's more than happy to have him in the Fifth.

Ikkaku's fond of Ichigo—kid's a fighter, and hella powerful—but if he's even _contemplating_ luring Yumichika away from the Eleventh, Ikkaku will beat his ass so hard he'll never sit down again.

Zaraki is still watching him, narrowed eyes sharp. When Ikkaku looks up, only belatedly realizing that his reiatsu is thrashing against his control and his hands are clenched into fists, the captain snorts. "Get lost," he orders. "Find the fairy and make sure he remembers he's still a part of this division, yeah? I can't keep Yachiru away from the paperwork much longer."

"Ken-chan!" the lieutenant objects. "I was making it pretty! Yumichee likes pretty things!"

Zaraki's snort says quite clearly what he thinks of Yumichika's preferences. Either that or he's imagining the Fifth Seat's reaction to his newly decorated paperwork. "Yeah, yeah. Out of my sight, Madarame."

Ikkaku is very familiar with that tone, so he makes tracks for the Fifth Division, even as his thoughts spin with confusion. Yumi's never mentioned being unhappy with the Eleventh, and he sure as hell still likes to fight, so Ikkaku can't figure out what the problem could be. Then again, people and their motivations have always been Yumichika's area of expertise. Ikkaku would rather hit first, hit later, and then ask questions about motivation and crap like that after all the bad guys are whimpering on the ground.

But, when he reaches the Fifth Division, it's to find that he's not alone in his confusion. Renji's standing in the doorway of the office, looming over an entirely unimpressed sixth seat.

"Out?" the lieutenant demands. "What the hell do you mean, 'out'? I don't know if you've noticed, but the idiot's been freaking _married_ to this division since he first put on the haori. I've seen him outside the office on personal business maybe four times in the last _month_."

The sixth seat is a skinny, wiry woman who looks like Renji could break her in half with two fingers and a sneeze, but she nevertheless fixes the redhead with a glare cool enough to give someone frostbite. "I'll thank you to mind how you address our captain, Lieutenant Abarai" she says icily. "And I meant what I said. Captain Kurosaki and Fifth Seat Ayasegawa are _out_ attending to personal matters and will be back after lunch. You are welcome to return then."

Her tone really doesn't sound all that welcoming.

With a huff, Renji spins on his heel and stomps past Ikkaku, who debates his options for half a second before following the lieutenant. Renji spares him half a glance and mutters, "Lost yours, too, then?"

Ikkaku grunts an affirmative, pausing to look down the street in both directions. "Which way?" he asks, because like hell he's going to give up before he gets some straight answers out of Yumichika.

Renji pauses as well, closing his eyes. Ikkaku doesn't interrupt, because Renji's been training under Captain Kuchiki and is doubtless far more attuned to reiatsu than him. He'll find them faster.

And, indeed, Renji opens his eyes after only a few heartbeats and turns left, stalking down the street. "Training Ground Nine," he says shortly, and flickers away in a burst of shunpo, the third seat half a step behind him.

* * *

Training Ground Nine is something of a rarity within the Seireitei's walls, an open and grassy field that's easily the size of a barracks, left to nature and allowed to grow wild as long as it keeps to its borders. The result is beautiful, hills of green-gold grass amongst the white stone of the city, running right up to the wall and pristine in the way that only wilderness can be.

Ikkaku lands next Renji, who glances over at him. The third seat is tight-lipped and looks vaguely unsettled, and Renji expects that's very much a reflection of how he himself appears. It's…jarring, almost, to seek Ichigo out and find him gone, to find him _with someone else_. Ever since Ichigo's promotion they've been nigh on inseparable, attached at the hip whenever Renji can manage to pry Ichigo out of his division.

But he hasn't heard anything about a friendship with Yumichika. Not a word, and that's…not upsetting, maybe, but the next best thing.

And then he steps around the curve of a hill and freezes, _nearly upsetting_ quickly metamorphosing into _fucking enraging_, because from this position he's got a perfect view of the pair stretched out on the grass.

Yumichika's the first one he notices, sitting up with his legs crossed. His top is off, skin and muscles shining sweat-slick in the morning light and zanpakuto sheathed on the ground beside him. That's not what has Renji's blood burning, though—no, that honor falls to the other man. To Ichigo, who's flat on his back, kosode on but undone so it falls to frame his leanly muscled body, head resting squarely in Yumichika's lap. Yumichika keeps dragging his fingers into Ichigo's brilliant orange hair, sliding them through slightly over-long locks turned dark with sweat and then gliding them down over the smooth skin of his throat, the fucking obscene curve of his bared shoulder.

Renji doesn't think he's ever hated anyone more than he does Ayasegawa Yumichika, at that moment.

He _wants_. He wants so fucking badly and Ichigo has never once showed any sign of wanting him in return. For all that the Fifth's captain is called a hothead, he can be absolutely inscrutable sometimes, and Renji's never picked up so much as a hint of interest in the other man that goes beyond the bounds of friendship.

(Renji himself has always been a coward when it comes to making the first move. He was with Rukia, right up to the point that he was placed firmly into the zone of _friends_. He was with Izuru, back in the Academy after Rukia left. And since then, right up until that rainy even in the human world that he met Ichigo, his only thought was for advancing, for getting better as quickly as possible. And now—and now, he _will not_ let it be the same.)

Before can even _think_ to stop himself, Renji snarls low in his throat and strides forward. He doesn't grab for Ichigo, much as he wants to seize that deceptively delicate wrist and drag the captain to his feet, to use his greater height and mass to drag Ichigo away where _fucking Yumichika_ can never touch him again. Instead, he picks up Zangetsu and growls, "We need to talk, Ichigo."

Doesn't even bother to wait for a response as he stalks away, back towards the winding roads around the training ground.

There's a startled yelp and a shout behind him, a hurried, "Sorry, Yumichika, later," that makes his blood simply burn hotter with rage, and then a quick-time set of footsteps trailing him. When Ichigo catches up, there's an annoyed scowl on his face, and he's pulling his top closed as he glares at his friend. "What the hell, Renji? I get _maybe_ an hour off in the middle of the day and you're going to make me run around the freaking Seireitei?"

It's on the tip of Renji's tongue to make a scathing comment about quickies where anyone can see, but instead his temper snaps with a nearly audible crack. He drops Zangetsu, whirls around to grab Ichigo's shoulders, and all but throws Ichigo against the white stone of the wall. "_Fuck you_, Ichigo," he spits. "So you'll fuck someone who you barely even know but it never _once_ occurs to you to ask _me_?"

Ichigo's features—fine, elegant, almost on the edge of feminine where he takes after his mother, and _fuck_ but Renji can see why Yumichika, with the highest standards in the Seireitei, took him to bed—twist with confusion, and he asks, "To ask you if I can fuck Yumichika?"

Renji snarls, deep and animalistic, aching and angry, and answers that the best way he knows how. He lunges forward, slamming his whole body right up against Ichigo's and fastening their mouths together.

It's hot and wet and desperate, Ichigo coming alive under his hands, and the kiss is just as much a fight, a competition, as anything else between them. Ichigo pushes and Renji pushes back, uses his size to his best advantage and _burns_ with want and frustration and jealousy, because it's one thing to watch Rukia pine after Kaien, but it's another entirely to watch Ichigo sit there and _fucking lounge_ in another man's lap.

Then there's a hand on his chest, shoving him back, and Ichigo growls, "What the _fuck_, Renji?"

"You _never noticed_," Renji spits back, anger overcoming sense. "If I had _ever _thought you were interested I'd have had you facedown over your desk the first day you were legal. Hell, I'd have shanghaied all your stuff and moved you into my apartment that day, bastard. But you never _looked_."

"You _idiot_." Ichigo sounds entirely fed up. "Moronic baboon-faced _monkey brain_! _You never noticed either!_"

Ah. Well. That's…

Renji's brain short-circuits just a little bit, but that's just fine.

He dives back in for another kiss, regardless.


End file.
